I Don't Like Halucinating
by alanwolfmoon
Summary: Wilson suddenly gets very sick. House finds out why--not a diagnostics story. House/Wilson


House looked up, blinking, as Wilson entered the older doctor's office, looking upset and rather confused.

He sat down on the floor, foot jerking, blinking rapidly.

"House."

"Um, yeah?" answered House, raising an eyebrow at his friend's behavior.

"Did you."

House blinked slowly, a frown beginning to form on his lips.

"Wilson, are you ok?"

"Pills. You. Um."

House started to get up, and blinked, when Wilson grabbed the trashcan, vomiting into it.

"Wilson, what happened?" asked House in a calm voice, getting up and limping over to sit in front of his friend, who was shaking, and appeared to be trying to get a hold of himself.

"Wilson, look at me. Did you take something?"

Wilson shook his head jerkily, eyes wide.

House gently reached forward, holding Wilson's head still and spreading one twitching eyelid.

"Lookout!" shouted Wilson suddenly, lurching to the side and crashing into the recliner.

House frowned, watching him cower from some invisible thing.

"Wilson, listen to me. Hey, shhh, it's ok." House guided his hyperventilating friend away from the hard, painful corners of the desk and chair, leading him into the differential room, and lowering him into the mostly empty space between the table and the door they had come out of.

Wilson shivered and twitched, staring up at his friend.

"It's ok." repeated House, heading towards the balcony door and pulling out his cellphone.

"Hello?"

"Chase, Wilson's in the differential room whacked out. I don't know why he's whacked, so take him to the ED so if something happens he's somewhere with medical crap."

"I was just coming back, I see him, where are you?"

"His office, trying to figure out what's making him all freaked out."

"House, he's seizing!"

"Then get him down to the ER!"

"Right."

House dug through the stuff on Wilson's desk, in the drawers, in his coat... nothing.

His phone rang.

"Hello?"

"House, we're in the ER, he stopped seizing, but he's hallucinating and semi-conscious."

"I haven't found anything."

"What do you want us to do?"

"I don't know!" snapped House, looking frantically around Wilson's office, "what's his heartra–"

"House?!"

House was looking into Wilson's trash can. Which was full of coffee and espresso cups.

"He's an idiot. He gave himself a caffeine overdose by drinking too many espressos."

The other end was silent for a moment.

"That's really stupid."

House snorted.

"Pump his stomach and give him activated charcoal."

"Right."

By the time House got down to the ER, Wilson had been given something so he had stopped twitching so much, and there was a little bit of black drool running from the corner of his mouth, as he sat, slumped against the raised back of his bed.

House sighed, watching him burp a little, blinking slowly and staring at nothing in particular.

Wilson jumped lethargically, as House wiped his face with a tissue.

"Stop squirming, you've got charcoal all over your face."

Wilson blinked at him, looking miserable.

"Sorry. I haven't been home in three days. I was falling asleep on my feet."

"Yeah, you're an idiot, I got that a while ago. Stay still."

Wilson shifted, squirming under house's hands.

"Wilson..." sighed House, sitting on the edge of his friend's bed so he could reach better.

"Sorry." mumbled Wilson, looking mildly unhappy as his hand started twitching again.

House glanced at Wilson's iv rack, then back at his friend.

Wilson's eyes had widened, and his shoulders were shaking.

House rolled his eyes, gently placing his hand on Wilson's far shoulder, drawing him closer.

Wilson blinked slowly, coming out of the hallucination.

"House..."

"Yeah Wilson?"

"I don't like hallucinating. And my throat hurts."

"Yeah, well, tough. You're the one that poisoned himself and had to get his stomach pumped."

Wilson sighed, coughing a little bit of black liquid into the tissue House held to his mouth, and resting his head on his friend's shoulder.

"So you're just gonna let me suffer?"

House tilted his head.

Then he grinned.

"I never said I wouldn't take your mind off it..."

Wilson smiled, as House kissed him, tongue playing with the gritty deposit of charcoal between his front teeth.

They both looked up, as Chase pushed the curtain open, holding a vacuum blood vial and a syringe.

"Uh..."

House looked down at Wilson, who was blushing furiously, then up a Chase, who was just as red.

Chase kind of moved his mouth a little, without any sound coming out.

Then he turned around, and they heard the sound of retching from down the hallway.

Then he reappeared, still holding the vial and syringe.

"Ok, ignoring that, I need to take a blood sample to check the caffeine levels."

Wilson nodded, still blushing.

As Chase leaned over, inserting the needle into Wilson's arm, he looked up briefly, finding himself right next to his boss.

"You know, I wouldn't have gotten so annoyed if I'd known you weren't just teasing about my hair."

House spluttered.

Chase smirked.

Wilson turned even redder than he already was.


End file.
